what a week it has been.
i think Andy Bernard's words can summarize what i've been feeling, in
"I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them."
the last couple days have felt up-close to the good ol' days. i'll share with you what i mean in a couple of posts:
A week ago, Reservoir had our first official show. After weeks of practice underneath our belts, after feeling more than comfortable in the Horan practice room, there was a sense of itching that we were ready to play live. It has been such a blessing to be in a band with Tay, Adam, Nate and Mattie (and Holland) over the course of the semester. What started as an excuse to keeping playing music (post-China-band) for the sake of a possible gig, has evolved into an awesome experience creating music with some good brothers. Life with these guys has extended beyond 'band-practice,' yet it has been an exciting journey- both having a roaring, fun time together, while sharing a common goal of making music that feels significant to me. Reservoir is perhaps the best 'excuse' I can think of to spend good time with all these guys at once. What a treat. It has also been pretty unique the way that we have been able to put together music- from shaping a bare-bones piece into a full sustaining song in the course of a single practice, is a cool way to recognize the creative gifts that the LORD has given us.
Last week we debuted "Seafarers," which is a song that represents the way that my song-writing appears to be shifting. In the last couple weeks, I've been thinking a lot about the style of the songs that we play, as well as the ones that I put together. Many of them include themes of uncertainty and transition, as well as hopefulness in new place. It appears that many of the songs I've written exemplify the human experience. However, lately I have been reflecting on what it looks like to receive music and songs to be written from the LORD. I've had the thought in my head for the last couple weeks: LORD what would it look like for you to give me a song to write? This makes me think of King David. He as a poet, it is clear in psalms his honestly before the LORD, both of himself, but as well as the incredible truth of the majesty of God. I wanted that to be true of the next song I wrote. Next thing I knew, after we had Seafarers.
Seafarers represents a lot of what this semester with the LORD has been. With reoccurring stress of classes and assignments, with relational distresses, with a continuing sense of spiritual heaviness, each week I have felt overburdened. Due to my top-heavy schedule, honestly lot of this anxiety is circumstantial, and only truly lasts until I reach my day of rest on Friday. So many Fridays (hopefully to be used as a Sabbath) of this semester, I have "fallen across the finish line," feeling burnt out, yet appreciative of the sense of freedom of getting things done. Towards the end of weeks like this, I have often felt the LORD sort of issuing to me ways that I did not trust Him. It is clear that Fridays, or reaching the end of my week is not my savior, but He is. I often think of Mark 4, of the story of Jesus calming the sea, when I think about trust. I see myself as a disciple on the boat, yelling at Jesus, "don't you care if I drown? don't you realize how much is going on in my life right now?"
But time and time again, my frustration and anxiety has been stifled by the peace that only Jesus can bring. Much like in his experience with the disciples, it is in that moment of Jesus speaking to the sea and telling it to "Be Still" that everything changes.
There you go, you've calmed my seas again. Far from shore, you've calmed my seas again. This both as the chorus of Seafarers, is also the reoccurring mantra I have come back to week in and out of this semester. As much as my anxieties pile up, the LORD continues to show me the ways that He is faithful to me.
There you go, you've calmed my seas again.
i think Andy Bernard's words can summarize what i've been feeling, in
"I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them."
the last couple days have felt up-close to the good ol' days. i'll share with you what i mean in a couple of posts:
A week ago, Reservoir had our first official show. After weeks of practice underneath our belts, after feeling more than comfortable in the Horan practice room, there was a sense of itching that we were ready to play live. It has been such a blessing to be in a band with Tay, Adam, Nate and Mattie (and Holland) over the course of the semester. What started as an excuse to keeping playing music (post-China-band) for the sake of a possible gig, has evolved into an awesome experience creating music with some good brothers. Life with these guys has extended beyond 'band-practice,' yet it has been an exciting journey- both having a roaring, fun time together, while sharing a common goal of making music that feels significant to me. Reservoir is perhaps the best 'excuse' I can think of to spend good time with all these guys at once. What a treat. It has also been pretty unique the way that we have been able to put together music- from shaping a bare-bones piece into a full sustaining song in the course of a single practice, is a cool way to recognize the creative gifts that the LORD has given us.
Last week we debuted "Seafarers," which is a song that represents the way that my song-writing appears to be shifting. In the last couple weeks, I've been thinking a lot about the style of the songs that we play, as well as the ones that I put together. Many of them include themes of uncertainty and transition, as well as hopefulness in new place. It appears that many of the songs I've written exemplify the human experience. However, lately I have been reflecting on what it looks like to receive music and songs to be written from the LORD. I've had the thought in my head for the last couple weeks: LORD what would it look like for you to give me a song to write? This makes me think of King David. He as a poet, it is clear in psalms his honestly before the LORD, both of himself, but as well as the incredible truth of the majesty of God. I wanted that to be true of the next song I wrote. Next thing I knew, after we had Seafarers.
Seafarers represents a lot of what this semester with the LORD has been. With reoccurring stress of classes and assignments, with relational distresses, with a continuing sense of spiritual heaviness, each week I have felt overburdened. Due to my top-heavy schedule, honestly lot of this anxiety is circumstantial, and only truly lasts until I reach my day of rest on Friday. So many Fridays (hopefully to be used as a Sabbath) of this semester, I have "fallen across the finish line," feeling burnt out, yet appreciative of the sense of freedom of getting things done. Towards the end of weeks like this, I have often felt the LORD sort of issuing to me ways that I did not trust Him. It is clear that Fridays, or reaching the end of my week is not my savior, but He is. I often think of Mark 4, of the story of Jesus calming the sea, when I think about trust. I see myself as a disciple on the boat, yelling at Jesus, "don't you care if I drown? don't you realize how much is going on in my life right now?"
But time and time again, my frustration and anxiety has been stifled by the peace that only Jesus can bring. Much like in his experience with the disciples, it is in that moment of Jesus speaking to the sea and telling it to "Be Still" that everything changes.
There you go, you've calmed my seas again. Far from shore, you've calmed my seas again. This both as the chorus of Seafarers, is also the reoccurring mantra I have come back to week in and out of this semester. As much as my anxieties pile up, the LORD continues to show me the ways that He is faithful to me.
There you go, you've calmed my seas again.